


Learning to Cope with it

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, Humor, M/M, Romance, hurt-comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-07-10
Updated: 2002-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-01 08:59:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/354680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whitney finally gets a clue about where he and Lana are headed. Through a strange conversation he and Pete end up going on a rather strange road trip. Written by my Girlfriend as a gift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning to Cope with it

## Learning to Cope with it

by Taiorami

[]()

* * *

Learning to cope with it 

I don't own Pete and Whitney, but if I did damn if they wouldn't be treated better. 

This is something my girlfriend wrote for me, because I'm strange and love the minor characters in every fandom I write for, and thought it would be cute. It came out wrong and demented...which is why you never ask a Gothic girl to write you a fluffy slash fic. I should have know better. Anyway! It's not done but she's doing college stuff...maybe one day. (Wishful thinking on my part) 

Chapter One: Self Pity, Bitterness, and a Road Trip. 

* * *

Whitney hovered outside his girlfriend's room, watching as her witch of an aunt fussed over her, managing to show some kind of emotion. He was almost impressed by it. Lana was still a little out of it and seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness, even though her fever had broken and she was going to be fine. 

He was glad for it, he hadn't thought he could feel anything else at the moment, but the moment he heard Lana was in the hospital he had been down here, feeling like his entire world was going to fall away beneath his feet. He had been expecting the very worse. He had been so sure that Lana was really hurt and that he'd really be alone. Was that selfish of him? 

He wasn't if what he had found was better or worse then what he had been prepared form, but now he knew he wasn't going to lose his mind just yet. Lana was going to be fine. 

He blinked, briefly entertaining the idea of finding out how his father was faring, then dismissed it just as quickly. He wasn't ready just yet. Instead he turned back to Lana who looked to be asleep again and sighed. This was really too much for him. Why couldn't things just stay the way they had been? Was that a terrible thing to ask for? 

"Whitney." Nell touched his arm. "Maybe you should go, since she isn't really up to talking yet and you must be tired right now." 

He almost smiled. A foolish person might have taken that for sympathy, but he'd known Nell long enough to know better. She was dependent on Lana to an almost frightening degree and saw anyone close to her as a threat. He didn't blame her, he guessed, Lana was the only family she had left after all; she would be a little clingy. But at the moment he could only think about what a bitch she was for wanting to hog Lana because she felt bad. 

"Mm." Lana whimpered in her sleep, twisting the covers around her fist. Nell left him instantly and stood by her, genuine concern on her face. "Clark." 

Whitney shut his eyes, wanting to pretend he hadn't heard her say that, but the almost physical pain in his chest told him differently. Nell gasped then looked up. 

"She's just dreaming Whitney...Clark did bring her in, last thing she saw you know." 

"Yeah." He said, cracking open an eye. Nell didn't like him much, no doubt there, but she'd choose him over Kent for her niece any day of the week. "That's probably it. Call me if anything...happens." 

"Whitney-" 

"I'm fine Nell." He said, mildly touched by her concern. She was such a strange lady. He turned and walked away, wondering what the hell he was going to do now. 

Lana didn't want him; he had known that of course, he had seen it in her eyes. She wanted that ever so special farm boy; the super saint who could do no wrong and went around saving everything that needed help and righting every wrong in the world. Honestly, how could one depressed former football player with no future and a fluctuating death wish compete with something like that? 

Easy question, simple answer. 

He couldn't. Because he was average. Lana was...Lana was something far from average that he couldn't quite name, but it was beyond perfection...it was just Lana. And Clark had it to, that overwhelming perfection that everyone both wanted and feared, because it was just unnatural. And everyone else was left in the shadow of it all, unless you were a billionaire or the freak of the week. 

Maybe he should be grateful he had her for a while. Maybe it was the cruelty of fate, maybe Lana and Clark were destined to be with each other and breed a brood of perfect babies so the entire world would feel inferior. 

`Oh, bitter much?' 

He chuckled to himself. Lana and Clark didn't mean to be what they were of course, anymore then he meant to be so...thoroughly and completely messed up these days. No one ever meant for things like this to happen, they just did and then you were forced to cope with it all or lose your mind in the process. If you were too slow life ran you over and back over your corpse. 

Or something like that. 

He would love to get drunk right about now. He paused outside of what looked like an empty room. It was totally dark as far as he could tell and no one looked to be inside. Maybe a minute to sit down would be useful. He debated it in his mind for a moment then, shrugging to himself, walked inside. 

He started to fumble for the light switch. 

"It's higher up." A voice muttered. 

"Pete?" He found the switch and indeed Pete was laying in one of the beds looking bored as hell. "I forgot you were in here too." 

"You and everyone else." Pete said, shrugging it off. "It happens. So what brings you to my room? Did your girlfriend kick you out or something?" 

"Something like that." Whitney suddenly felt uncomfortable. "I can leave if you want." 

"I would kill you." Pete said, perfectly serious. "My parents left an hour ago, thought I was asleep or something, and I've been here in the dark ever since. I need the company if I have any chance of retaining a single shred of sanity." 

"Ah..." Whitney couldn't really say no to that. After all, the guy had just been infected with some kind of life threatening disease; it couldn't hurt to hang around until one of the other members of the intrepid trio came to see how he was faring. He sat in one of those stupid plastic chairs and looked at Pete. Pete looked back, amusement in his dark eyes. 

"And how has your day been Whitney?" 

"Shitty." Whitney said honestly. "And you?" 

"The same." Pete said, sitting up some. "I've been awake for a while, the doctors gave me some crap about recovering quickly because I was recently infected, and I've seen Chloe once, when I first woke up, and Clark hasn't been around at all." 

"Wonderful best friends you have Ross." 

Pete snorted. "You're kidding right?" 

"Uh...I was hoping for cynical, maybe sarcastic." Whitney admitted. 

"The old jock stereotype shattered." Pete's lips quirked. "Anyway, the three of us haven't really been best friends since all of this weird crap started happening on a daily basis. Clark is super guy, defender of little old ladies and cute girls, while Chloe's only true friend is the Torch. I'm just the helpful black guy because every successful group needs one." He smiled outright. "That, Whitney, was cynical, if not pessimistic. For the record." 

"And I thought you were the stupid one." Whitney said, leaning back in his seat. "I stand corrected." 

"It's okay, since I just thought you were stupid...period." He smirked. "Well, what happened with your girlfriend, if you don't mind me asking. This place has no cable, so it should be interesting." 

"Are you always like this?" 

"No, that would hint at the fact that I might not be happy with the way my life was going and well, that would just fuck everything up wouldn't it?" Pete laughed humorlessly. "I'm not supposed to have problems. Sure, my family was screwed over by the Luthor's and my supposed best friend has ditched me for Lex, and yes, it's slowly dawning on me that everyone is going to end up dying here, in Smallville Kansas, I get that I'm doomed to be stuck in someone's shadow and that the only time anyone will acknowledge my existence is when it's convenient. I'm the happy guy who tells jokes and can be cast aside one whim." 

"And I thought I was maladjusted." 

Pete blinked, momentarily taken aback then nodded. "You probably are. I mean, you aren't any better off are you?" 

"Lets see, stuck in Smallville, stuck in girlfriend's shadow, being ditched for Kent, I'm only around when Lana wants something or I'm getting in trouble, familes falling apart so...nope, no better then you." Whitney shook his head. "I need to get out of here." 

"I second that." Pete sighed. "But where to go and how to get there? And there's the whole I'm in the hospital thing, which is a real bitch, so you go, have fun, I'll just continue to wallow in self pity, all alone, by myself, because no one loves me." 

"Get up." Whitney said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"I'm sick." 

"You are not." 

"Okay, I'm not, I'll give you that one, but they've got me in this hospital gown thing and I refuse to go anywhere in this get up." Pete looked like he meant it. 

"Fine, stay." Whitney shrugged. 

"...hold on." Pete glared and slid out of the bed and walked into the bathroom, muttering things under his breath that his mother would faint if she heard. Whitney closed his eyes. 

This was an odd moment. He and Pete Ross, who he didn't really like at all, were going...somewhere. Okay, somewhere this had to make sense, on some level, or else he had actually lost his mind, so had Pete, and they were going to end up killing someone and driving off of a cliff. 

Never again was he letting his aunt pick what movie they should watch. 

Then again, maybe they could just drive around until he regained what fragile sanity he had these days. And as far as Pete went...well Pete wasn't terrible company right? 

Had he just talked himself into doing this? Funny how things like that worked out, but since the rational part of his brain was on vacation he might as well do something with his time right? Because as soon as it decided to kick back in he was going to have a very bad...lifetime. 

"Alright Whitney." Pete said standing in front of the other boy in jeans and a t-shirt. Whitney stood up then lead the way out of the room turning off the lights as he went. In the back of his mind he wondered what kind of trouble Pete's sudden disappearance from the hospital was going to cause then, smiling some, decided that he didn't really care. 

And if anyone noticed he was gone before tomorrow then he'd never complain about his life, Smallville, or anything, ever again. 

They were walking down the hall, more or less unnoticed by the doctors and nurses, because who cares about two teenage boys walking towards the elevator. They could be here for any number of things, why waste time asking them about it? 

It was when they were waiting for the elevator that they had their first sign of trouble, in the form of some girl from their school. She was pretty, in a vapid shallow way, and dressed like a candy striper, while her obviously bleached blond hair tumbled down around her shoulders. 

"Pete, I thought you were sick." 

"Uh no." Pete said, trying desperately to remember this girl's name. He was going to feel guilty later if he didn't. "It was just a flu thing. Whitney's giving me a ride home." 

"That's so nice of you Whitney." She chirped, smiling widely. "I was just on my way to see if Lana was ready for something to eat, should I tell her I saw you?" 

"No." Whitney said, shaking his head. "I was just there and she's probably tired of me by now." 

"I don't see how any one could be tired of you." She giggled then turned to go. "Bye." 

Pete and Whitney waved the ducked into the elevator. Whitney raised an eyebrow. 

"Do you know that girl?" 

"No." Pete shook his head and pushed the button for the first floor. "She knows us though." 

"Clark Kent's sidekick and that guy who used to play football and is dating Lana Lang, right?" 

Pete laughed. "You catch on quickly. Humor as a defense mechanism is a very useful tool." 

Whitney didn't respond to that, though he reminded himself to think about it later. The doors slid open and they dashed through the lobby and outside to Whitney's waiting truck. Pete opened the passenger side door, noting that it was unlocked, like Whitney didn't care if the thing got stolen. Then again, if anyone in town saw it they'd probably recognize it as Whitney's. Very few people hadn't been almost run over at least once while Whitney was learning how to drive it. 

"Madelyn." Pete said out of nowhere while Whitney searched his pockets for his keys. Whitney shot him a questioning look as he put the recently located key into the ignition. "That girls name, its Madelyn Pryor, she used to be a redhead though." 

The look on Whitney's face said that he really didn't care. Pete shrugged and kept his mouth shut for a good five minutes before he spoke again. 

"Any idea where we're going?" 

"...no. You?" 

"Absolutely not." Pete said, nodding some. "Then again, none of this makes any sense, so having a destination would just screw things up wouldn't it?" 

"I admire your logic." Whitney deadpanned. 

"Thank you Doctor." Pete muttered. "But if you're going to be pissy, how about...Casein?" 

"Where the hell is that?" Whitney asked, pulling onto the road that would lead out of Smallville. 

"...Indiana." Pete coughed. "My sister goes to some little college there, really small place but very good as far as education and reputation go." 

"Indiana?" 

"Yeah." 

"Indiana?!" 

"Uh hu." 

" _Indiana_ " 

"Indiana." 

Whitney glanced at the other boy. "To visit your sister." 

"Yes." 

"Alright." 

Pete blinked, wandering if he'd heard right. "What?" 

"I said alright." Whitney repeated. "Its not like I was going to do anything this week except work and go to school." 

"And wallow in self-pity, can't forget about that." Pete added. 

"And instead I'm going to Indiana with you to visit your sister." Whitney rubbed his eyes. "I don't know which is worse." 

"I'd tell you, but you'd just get mad at me." 

"I'm sure." 

* * *

_Smallville, where all hell is about to break loose_

**"HE'S WHAT?!?"**

Martha Kent suddenly found herself diverting in the direction on the waiting room, where one of her closest friends, Chanet Ross, was being held back by her husband. The doctor was all but cowering under the intense glare the woman was giving him and slowly edging towards the elevator. He was seriously reconsidering his career at this point in time. 

"Chanet, what's wrong?" Martha asked, offering up Clark's cup of coffee. Lord knew that boy didn't need the caffeine anyway. The woman took it and sat down shakily. 

"Pete's gone." 

Martha blinked then turned and frowned at the unlucky doctor who had yet to escape. "He's what?" 

"We...sent on o-of the nurses to check on him an and he wasn't there?" He tried, looking panicky. "It wasn't my fault honest. I'm just an intern you know? I don't even really work here all like that. Not my fault at all." 

Martha turned back to her friend who had already downed half of the cup and was shaking her head sadly. "Where could he be? Do you think something happened to him? Could he be hurt? I would just die if something had happened to him. He's all we have." 

"I know, I know. I'm sure he'll turn up." Martha said soothingly. 

Chanet shook her head. "But he's my baby!" 

"We do have a daughter...dear." Richard Ross trailed off when both women glared at him coldly. "Never mind, forget I even spoke. It's not like I say more then three things a day." And with that he turned and walked off. (Anybody notice a pattern? ^-^) 

Martha patted her friends back. "I know, I know, but we'll find Pete as soon as we can, I promise. In fact I'll send Clark out looking for him right now." 

"Looking for who?" Clark asked, walking over to them. His father had fallen asleep and since his mother had yet to come back, he had come to see what was going on. "Is something wrong?" 

"Pete's missing!" Chanet wailed, tears forming in her large brown eyes. "He's gone, he could be hurt, or dying, all alone, I want him back!" 

"Oh." Clark blinked at his mother who gave him a very pointed look. "I'll just go start looking around." 

"Right, and I'll call the police and ask around, someone's had to see him. I'm sure-" 

"Are you talking about Pete Ross?" A candy striper asked, blinking wide green eyes at them. "He left a few hours ago with Whitney Fordman, said he was taking Pete home." 

"Oh." Martha echoed her son's earlier words. "Well...that...was unexpected." 

Clark nodded. "I'll just go then." If he could figure out where they were headed catching up wouldn't be a problem. 

* * *

_Elsewhere_

Whitney's head lolled off to the side in sleep. He hadn't intended to fall asleep of course, since Pete was driving and he preferred to not end up as a smear on the highway anytime soon, but he hadn't gotten any rest in quite sometime. 

He sat up what seemed like a moment later and rubbed his eyes. Pleased to see that he wasn't dead, he yawned and stretched some. "Well, Ross, I'm impressed, we aren't dead. You wanna pullover so I can-" 

**HONK**

Whitney sat straight up and found himself looking into the headlights of an oncoming sixteen wheeler, which was sure to crush his truck and him along with it. And instead of swerving they were headed right for it. 

"Pete what the fuck!" He turned and found himself looking at not Pete, but a blue kola type thing with four arms and things sticking out of its head. "You aren't Pete." The thing cackled what passed for insanely. Then Whitney was reminded of that truck barreling towards them. 

**"AHHH!"**

"Dude, stop yelling!" Pete thawped him over the head. "I'm trying to drive here. God." 

Whitney blinked at him then sighed. "I'd never though I'd say this but I am so glad to see you." 

"Gee, there's a self-esteem boost." Pete said dryly. "What the hell was wrong with you?" 

"I just had this wild dream." Whitney laughed, shaking his head. "You'd think I was crazy if I told you about it." 

"Well Whitney." Pete said softly, grinning slowly. "We all go a little crazy sometimes." And then, with no warning, he let go of the wheel and pulled out a long ass knife ala evil scream guy and brought it down right beside Whitney's head. 

Whitney's mouth dropped open. "Well, fuck me." 

"Okay, but I really didn't think you went for the type of thing." Pete muttered. He was outside of the car looking at a map he had spread out on the hood. They were parked outside of a gas station and the sun was just now setting in the sky. Whitney's watch said it was almost ten in the morning. He was going out a limb here and saying it was wrong. Pete sighed and began folding up the map. 

He was walking around to get back in. Whitney blinked once then lunged and hit the lock right before Pete opened the door. This got him a raised eyebrow. 

"Ross, have you ever been a blue fuzzy thing with four arms?" 

"No." Pete said slowly. "Though, in first grade I was a cloud, so you know, blue construction paper and cotton balls, but I doubt that's what you mean." 

"Right. Have you ever killed anyone?" 

"See, now were drifting into Luthor territory, so lets not even go there." Pete leaned against the door. "You're acting like some chick in a horror movie who's afraid her boyfriend is about to snap and kill her." Whitney blinked at him. 

"Well, I had this dream that you were the scream guy." 

"The movie guy who got killed?" Pete questioned. He had really liked that guy, he had reminded him of himself. 

"No, the actual killer in the first one." Whitney corrected. 

"You had a dream I was a creepy knife toting white guy?" Pete asked, snickering. "Have you considered getting these delusions of yours checked out by a professional?" 

Whitney unlocked the door and settled back into his seat. "No, but that does seem like a good idea. So, what have I missed?" 

"Lets see, I talked to my sister so on the off chance my parents actual get clue and call her she won't tell on us and she was nice enough to wire my birthday money." He grinned brightly. He had known there was a reason he adored his sister so damn much. She was the only on who even pretended to care about him and what he did with his life. 

"Your birthday isn't until June." Whitney pointed out. Pete blinked. 

"How'd you know?" 

"I've known you since the first grade." Whitney rolled his eyes. "You remember, when you were the 'special' kid dressed as a cloud for the Mary had a Little Lamb play. I know see you weren't retarded like we all thought, just damn insane." 

"You're sweet." Pete laughed and turned the key then looked around. Not that he needed to, no one had driven past in hours. He pulled out onto the road and off they were again. 

"It's getting late." Whitney observed. All hail him, master of the obvious. "You want me to drive yet?" 

Whitney had driven all of last night and well into the morning, then around seven, Pete had taken over. That had been around thirteen hours ago, but Pete looked wide-awake. Whitney was not one to chance his life on that fact that he looked awake, because he was almost positive that the four coffee cups on the floor had something to do with that. Caffeine, though during a late night cram session was a great substitute for god, was not something he trusted that much. 

"Nope." Pete said, not taking his eyes off the road. "The guy in the gas station told me about this really cheap hotel and club nearby, so I figured we could get a little rest there, before we head out again." 

"Oh. Alright." Whitney settled back in his seat, looking forward to a chance to actually sleep for more then an hour at a time. Pete flashed him a grin and Whitney looked out of the window at the passing scenery. It was very...very...flat. As in pancake type flat, on and on in every direction as far as he could see. After ten or so minutes he was severely disgusted with the whole scene and he looked away at the only thing there was. Pete drove on, paying him absolutely no heed to the fact that the other teen was staring at him intently. 

Funny, if it had been Pete staring at Whitney he would have had a major problem with it. Oh well, maybe Pete was just a better, less paranoid, person then he was. Oddly enough the thought didn't seem to bother Whitney terribly...is in at all. At least now he could rest and not worry about Pete going all psycho killer on his ass. He shuddered some and sank low in his seat. 

He had issues he didn't quite understand. 

Pete glanced at Whitney out of the corner of his eyes, a slight smile curling his lips. When Whitney figured out what was up, he was going to die a slow horrible death but...it would so be worth the look on Whitney's face. 

Less then fifteen minutes later and Whitney was staring at an ominous looking brick building. A lit sign said vacancy and a neon blue sign in the window said Denial is loopy script. Behind it was two more buildings, one on the left the other the right, and by the looks of things, they were motel rooms. It looked okay...so why was Whitney getting just bad vibes? 

Pete was already out and walking up to the front door. Whitney hesitated for a moment then got out as well, taking a moment to roll up the window, before jogging after Pete who was talking to some guy who had come from inside. Big, thick neck, broad shoulders, olive skin and black hair held back in a ponytail. Looked like your average bouncer. 

The guy looked at Whitney who swallowed and looked away. He stared at the ground and kicked at the dust, watching as it formed little clouds then fell back to the ground. This went on for a few minutes until Pete tapped him on the shoulder. He half turned to see what Pete wanted, but was stopped from saying anything...by Pete...and his mouth. 

He stared straight into slightly amused brown eyes but fond that was all he could do as Pete's lips moved over his own, catching him in, what under other circumstances may not have been so bad, a fairly quick and meaningless kiss. Except it wasn't. 

Pete pulled away just a quickly as he had moved in and took one of Whitney's larger hands in his own. So far he hadn't been punched out, so things were moving smoothly ad according to his half assed plan. Ah, thank god for dumb, homo-ignorant jocks that couldn't get over shock quickly, because they made genius plans like his work. 

"You can go in." The big bouncer guy said, opening the door. Pete winked then tugged Whitney into the air-conditioned hallway. And waited for the blond to snap out of his daze. 

"I know I'm amazing but snap out of it." Pete said, smiling some. 

Whitney blinked slowly. "Why did you do that?" 

"Uh...did I not mention this was a gay bar? That has good food, according to the guy at the gas station, and as much as I like Twinkies and Zebra Cakes, I would like food." Pete trailed off, noticing the way Whitney's eyebrow had become part of his hairline. "And the bouncy guy didn't think you were gay and so I kissed you, may we move on?" 

"Ross...forget it." Whitney rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was in a gay bar, he Whitney, former star of the Smallville Crows, who had dated the head cheerleader, was in a gay bar, with Pete Ross, the cynical bastard disguised as the fun-loving, but loyal, idiot of the once dynamic trio, which was apparently falling apart because of that wonderful thing called being a teenager. 

And he wasn't freaking out. How...very disturbing and unnerving. Very. 

Still wondering at the insanity he had lead himself into, Whitney followed behind Pete who looked perfectly at ease, which was also just a little disturbing for him. When they got out of here, he and Pete were...not ever going to discuss this again because of his pride and...such. 

He opened his mouth to say just that, because Pete should know that this was never to be mentioned again, when someone touched him...his ass. He yelped and jumped, ending up very close to Pete who blinked. 

"Yes Whitney?" 

"Someone just touched my butt." Whitney hissed. Pete frowned. 

"I promise you can freak and be as `phobic as you want later on." With that the smaller boy walked off, leaving Whitney who felt just a little bit of panic creeping up on him. Wait, he could handle this, he could so handle this, no big deal. After all, he was dealing with this thing with his father, dealing with Lana, dealing with the mutants that seemed to think Smallville was a great vacation spot, and he could deal with this. 

And what did Ross mean by saying he was `phobic? Not being gay didn't make him phobic. That in mind Whitney walked over to the bar and took a seat, gratefully managing to keep his behind from being assaulted again. He waved off the bartender and looked around. 

It wasn't a bad looking place, looking like any bar you might go to, not that Whitney went to a lot since he didn't drink..., a few tables, a few booths, and a bar. Only thing was that, not counting two women sitting in the back of the room, there were only men around. So, all he had to do was wait for Pete to get back and not get hit on and he'd be fine. 

Life was sad when you were waiting around for someone like Ross to come around and save your ass...literally. Suddenly he wished he did drink...or that he hadn't left that fake ID at home. Not that he used it; everyone on the team had one, for out of town things, if they wanted to hang out or something. Whitney rarely did of course. 

Right. 

"Hullo." A rough but quiet voice with a distinct English accent said. Whitney turned and saw a young man sitting next to him. Brown hair, brown eyes, he looked a little tipsy, but not all out drunk or anything. "I'm Wesley." 

He blinked, silently promising whatever god was listening that he'd be good and go to church or whatever, so long as this guy was not hitting on him. "Whitney." 

"Oh. Do you know why I'm here Whit-neeyy?" The man said, drawing out the boys name for, as far as he could tell, no good reason. 

"No." Whitney said cautiously. 

"Wells, I tell ya." Wesley said, hand going up to his neck. "It all started when I moved to LA." 

"Here kid." The bartender pushed something in front of Whitney, looking grim. "Don't tell anyone I did this, but I can't let you suffer through this story sober. It's pitiful." 

Whitney groaned silently. Wonderful, fucking wonderful. He took a sip of whatever he had just been given and coughed as it burned it's way down his throat. He blinked back the tears that rose to his eyes and swallowed again. 

Hum...that hadn't been so terrible. He took another sip. 

"And it was all Doyle this and Doyle that. Never about me." Wesley said, seemingly oblivious to what was going on. Whitney took another drink. 

* * *

Pete milled around the hotel room absently, wondering if he should go out and find Whitney just yet. After all, it wasn't his fault he had a pinchable ass and someone had taken advantage of that, he had been entitled to a little freaking out about that. After all, being a jock in Smallville usually meant you were painfully straight. 

Pete didn't count since he had never actually gotten off of the bench. So he was a little bit shorter then the rest of the boys...in all of the schools they went up against. So he felt no need to chase after bimbo cheerleaders, thought he certainly didn't mind looking at them, or act as if the thought of liking another guy was the most horrible thing in the world, because it wasn't. 

The most horrible thing in the world was realizing that, no matter how hard you fight against all of your clichs, the faithful best friend is destined to fall for the hero. But, since the people upstairs hated him and he wasn't quite desperate enough to go poking about with the people downstairs, it really hadn't gone over that well. 

Hey, maybe that was the reason Clark wasn't hanging around him as much...wait, no, Clark was the hero, that couldn't be the reason. Why, that would screw up the whole unbiased, wonderful hero image that Clark had worked so hard to obtain, what was he thinking? 

`Bitter much Ross?' Pete chuckled to himself and looked at his watch. A few more minutes and, assuming Whitney hadn't retreated back to the truck, he'd go out and save him from all the icky gay people. And instead he could hang out with the closeted bisexual. 

Yay. 

He yawned some and blinked. Maybe he should go get the jock now so he could get some rest, watching TV for an hour did make on sleepy. Plus he had done all that driving while Whitney bitched at him, not counting the amount of time the blond had been asleep. 

Pete was about to drift off when someone rapped on the door sharply. He rolled off of the bed and walked over. Ignoring everything his mother had taught him about answering the door; he pulled it open and leaned heavily against the frame. 

The bouncer guy was standing there with Whitney leaning against him. Funny thing, Whitney looked kind of out of it, almost like he was about to pass out drunk. Who would give a high school something to drink and where could Pete find them? 

"You're boyfriend tried to listen to Wes' sob story. He had a few drinks so he wouldn't die of boredom." 

Pete nodded and took Whitney by the arm, nothing really registering in his mind. "Thanks." He kicked the door shut with his foot and dragged the blond over to the bed. Whitney fell back and giggled. 

"The lady slit his throat and the vampire tried to smother him, and now the lawyer chick is trying to convert him." Whitney sang, making Pete wince. Was Whitney tone deaf or just smashed? He debated it as he pulled off the other teen's shoes then managed to get him all the way on the bed. He dropped onto the floor next to the bed, trying to ignore Whitney who was more or less asleep already. 

"Boyfriend. Right. And then little purple pigs will fly and mate with pink rats." 

* * *

Pete ended up spending the night on the floor with a cover he snagged from the bed and Whitney snored peacefully while his not-quite-friend tossed and turned. Unfortunately Whitney woke up with a massive headache and a smirking Pete. But, since Whitney kind of had a hangover, Pete got to drive. 

Four sups of coffee later: 

Whitney leaned against his car and looked at Pete who had gotten the idea to pull over, get out, wipe off the hood of the truck, then lay pop-tarts down so they could bake. Whitney might have had something to say about that, had he not wanted one of those pop tarts. So instead he just stood there and watched Pete who was jumping around and talking to himself. 

He would have given anything to tie Pete down and make him shut up...wait, no, bad mind, stop, bad, dirty images. 

"They're done." Pete chirped, suddenly very close and in his face. What happened to personal space? 

"How can you tell?" Whitney asked, eyebrow going up. Brown eyes glazed over in thought and an edge of pink peeked from between Pete's lips. Whitney stared. More images...he had to learn to control that. Soon. Pete sighed, warm air brushing over his cheek like a blanket. Space, needed space. 

"Ahh-" 

This time Whitney kissed him while he stood in shock. What...had he missed something? Like the memo saying that Whitney came out of nowhere and kissed unsuspecting people on the side of roads? If he had known he would have pulled over the day before. 

Pete leaned up, into the kiss, admittedly not having a problem with it. They stayed like that for a moment, lips touching and nothing else before Whitney pulled back and blushed darkly. Pete hesitated then pulled away as well and walked over to the pop tarts. 

Whitney took a deep breath then leaned over and grabbed one. They stood there and munched n the processed pastries in silence. 

* * *

Things you might notice and if you pick out, you get a prize: Shameless Drew Carey show reference, Thelma and Louise reference, X-men reference, Star Trek: Original Series Reference, Angel reference. I think that's it. 


End file.
